


"And I'll See You, and You'll See Me"

by faithfulcynic



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfulcynic/pseuds/faithfulcynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is the room and there is the corridor and that is all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"And I'll See You, and You'll See Me"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panademonium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panademonium/gifts).



The angel frees Ronette, but it only unties Laura's hands. 

There is a moment of disbelief and bitterness, of laughter and bile battling each other in the back of her throat, and then the man who was her father is chasing after Ronette, and Laura is left with only the mirror. 

Laura doesn't want to look, is terrified of seeing Bob grinning back at her again, of seeing the cracks in her soul, of seeing something not worth saving, of seeing herself disappear, but it is too exhausting not to look and so she does.

She almost doesn't recognize the girl staring back at her - the stringy hair and makeup smears, the too-wide eyes and dirty skin. 

_Where did you come from_ , Laura thinks as she shies away from the image, tries to hide from Ronette's screams and Bob's laughter. _Have you been here all this time_?

Ronette and Bob and someone else seem to scream together but Laura stares at the mirror, unable to pull her eyes away. _Are you my true self_ , she thinks. _What everyone, what angels see when they look at me and turn away_?

The girl in the mirror cracks a tiny smile then and Laura wonders if she has finally gone crazy, even though there are worse things then madness, she decides. She would rather go mad than become Bob. 

But the image in the mirror still shakes her. _Who are you_ , Laura thinks. _Who are you and who am I_?

She is so tired.

When the flash of green lands in front of her...

(Even though the man had said not to take it. "Don't take the ring, Laura," he had whispered.) 

... There is a moment of perfect clarity. 

And then Laura frees herself. 

****

There is blessed moment of silence, and then she wakes up in the room.

****

There is the room and there is the corridor and that is all. 

Except that the room changes. It is filled and unfilled, empty and full. Chairs and statues and lamps and chessboards, or repeating chevrons and deep red drapes. 

Sometimes there are people, such as the tallest man she has ever seen or a little man who likes to dance, and sometimes there is no one at all, only the idea that someone might once have been there - real and whole and alive - like the imprint of warmth left by someone who has just left their side of the bed. 

Sometimes she sees versions of herself - crying Lauras, screaming Lauras, Lauras with brown hair - and each time she wonders which one of them, including herself, is real.

Laura doesn’t doubt that she is dead. But she doesn’t know why she is here. She goes from room to corridor to room, and back again, and wonders what she is looking for.

****

There is music – long, moody notes that flutter or shrill around the room. 

Sometimes Laura gets caught up in the moment and dances, shuffling back and forth in a small square of floor, letting the music fill her and pretending that she is alive. 

But usually she just moves to another room, looking for … something. Peace, maybe. Silence. But there never is any. The room is never truly empty of sound - there might be rustling curtains or the squeak of a chair and, of course, there is the sound of her breath - at times too faint, at times too harsh – and her footsteps. 

She moves instantly from any room she thinks she might hear Bob in.

****

There are shadows.

Sometimes the lights flicker in and out and Laura doesn’t like that because it reminds her of the flashlight bobbing back and forth on their way to the train car. She doesn’t like the idea that something might jump out at her from places that the light can’t reach, or that she could be temporarily blinded by a stray light that hits her face.

Sometimes there are shadows of feathers and sycamore trees.

There is often blood on the floor.

****

She wanders and wanders and wanders…

And then one day there is Annie.

****

Annie is light and innocent in a way that reminds Laura of Donna. 

Laura thinks she should hate Annie, hate whatever it is that makes her so … perfect, but she doesn’t. Instead she feels panic at the idea of a beautiful thing trapped in a place like this. She feels fear.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Laura tells her.

“We all end up here eventually,” Annie replies with a smile. 

Laura frowns and tries to pull the woman away from the room, maybe together they can find some way out, but Annie shakes her head and pulls her arm away. 

“You need to find Dale,” she says. “You need to help him.”

“Help him how?”

“Find you,” she says. 

Laura is confused. “Why is he looking for me?”

“Because he couldn’t save you.”

Laura can’t imagine a stranger trying to help her. Donna and James tried to help her, or at least the person they thought Laura was, but a complete stranger? 

“I already saved myself,” she says and looks skeptically at Annie. “He’s probably trying to save you.”

Annie smiles a sweet smile and says, “I already saved myself too.” And then she is gone.

“But how do I know what he looks like,” Laura yells after her. 

But Laura knows what Dale looks like, of course she does. He is the dark haired man with the serious eyes. The man who had told her not to take the ring. 

He had been trying to protect her, because he couldn’t have known that the alternative was far worse. But he had tried. He had tried.

Laura’s eyes water a little and for once she feels … lighter. He tried. He had _tried_.

She decides to find him. 

****

There is the room and there is the corridor and that is all

Except that the room changes. It is filled and unfilled, empty and full. Sofas and tables and paintings and lockets, or continuous chevrons and blood-red drapes.

Sometimes there are people - an old man with a glass of milk, the man with the missing arm - and sometimes there is no one at all, only the ghost of a person left in the room, like the warm breath of the serial killer on the back of your neck.

Sometimes she sees versions of herself - laughing Lauras, bloodied Lauras, Lauras with white eyes - and each time she wonders which one of them she will become. 

Laura doesn’t doubt that she will go mad. Mad and crazy and back again. But she has to find Dale and tell him … something. Something important, something he needs to know, because he’s looking for her and _she has to find him_.

She goes from room to corridor to room, and back again, and looks, and looks, and wonders if she ever will find him.

****

There is music - dark, caressing notes that slink in and through the room. 

Often Laura gets caught up in the moment and dances, shuffling back and forth in her small square of floor, letting the music fill her and pretending that she is whole. 

But usually she forces herself to move to another room, looking for Dale. Always looking. 

She still moves instantly from any room she thinks she might hear Bob in.

****

There are shadows.

Sometimes the light only touches a small portion of the room and Laura fights to remain in that tiny pocket of light while the shadows push at and in and surround her. 

Sometimes she can see the outline of branches and birds through the drapes.

She tries to avoid stepping in the blood on the floor. 

****

She searches and searches and searches …

And then one day she finds him.

****

Laura appears in the room, suddenly, finding him the one time she wasn’t actively looking. But things like that happen in this place and they don’t surprise her anymore. 

He is older and he is _real_ and he knows her, and he sees her, and she looks at him knowingly and then taps her nose because she has her secret. And also because she finds the whole thing a bit funny now. Everything these days seems a touch funnier.

The little man is also there and he speaks his usual nonsense at Dale and Dale is confused.

"But it is Laura Palmer," Dale insists and then addresses her. "Are you Laura Palmer?"

She is not surprised to find herself unsure. It is difficult to focus; she is almost giddy. "I feel like I know her, but sometimes my arms bend back."

And that is wrong, but also funny. She smiles a bit too wide, so happy to have found him at last, so happy to have found him whole. 

“She's filled with secrets”, the little man says. And it’s true, it’s true. Laura grins, then forces herself to focus, to hold out just a bit longer and tell him her biggest one.

Laura walks over slowly, fighting against the urge to sway, not succeeding much, truth be told, and leans over to give Dale a kiss. He tastes like coffee and smells like cherry pie and they both smile. 

She shares her secret. It is strange to tell, hard to tell, but she knows that he will believe her. He _knows_ her, the things that she’s done wrong, the things that she’s done right, and he doesn’t pull away. 

He sees her. 

"I'll see you again in twenty-five years,” she tells him. “Meanwhile…” 

And she strikes a pose because she still feels a bit lightheaded and silly, but at the same time Laura wants to cry because twenty-five years? Even as she says it, Laura knows that it is true.

Because she has found him, she has found him after all this time. 

But he has not found her. 

Yet.

_He will though_ , Laura thinks. _He will find me, even if he doesn’t know he is looking for me. He will find me because he couldn’t save me_.

She decides to wait.

****

There is the room and there is the corridor and that is all. 

The room changes. It is filled and unfilled, empty and full. Empty and full. There is music and there is music and there are shadows upon shadows and there is no light and the music never stops playing.

There is the room … and there is the music … and there are shadows …

There are people and there is her and there is Bob, and she is Bob and her father is her and she laughs and she cries and she screams. She chases and is chased and the chevrons are endless and she dances without pause. 

And she waits and waits and waits

And she waits and waits and waits

And she waits and waits and waits …

And then one day she feels a hand grip her shoulder.

****

She looks up to see a man she almost remembers, dark hair and smiling eyes. And it is real and solid and whole, the hand on her shoulder. 

She tries to remember who he is, because this is important, but at first all she hears is wind and leaves and laughter and breath.

And then there is a light without shadows.

And then there is the angel.

There is a moment of disbelief and hopefulness and longing, and then the man is smiling down at her and she remembers. 

It is Dale and she _sees_ him, everything that makes him whole. She knows him, the things that he’s done wrong, the things that he’s done right, and he has never stopped searching.

It is Dale and he has finally found her and Laura smiles. 

The angel prays and Laura laughs and Laura cries (for a long, long time time) and then she kisses Dale goodbye, hugs him, thanks him, and whispers in his ear.

Dale looks a bit stunned, but he sees her, knows her, and he knows she’s telling the truth. He has his own journey to begin; hers has finally ended. 

She winks at him, takes the angel’s hand, and then - finally - there is silence.


End file.
